Starting Over

Chapter 2- The Fall of the House of Bryan

***This chapter has some foul language, but I felt it necessary.***

 It’s been a little more than a year since Caroline passed away. Today is the first time I’ve been home in 5 months. Bo is now 3 and Tate is 15 months old.Bridget brought them out to a couple of shows, so I got to see them. I missed Tate’s first birthday, but I got to see the boys today. She has them most of the time now and is living in my house with them. Momma helps her a lot from what I hear. Caroline would be so disappointed in me; at the man and father I have become. I stay on the road almost constantly going from show to show. Everything about this place reminds me of her. Nothing has changed. Bridget did finally get rid of most of her clothes. Or at least I think it was Bridget. They are all staying at mommas tonight. I think momma said something about taking the kids to some kind of museum tomorrow. But I’m alone in the house tonight. And I definitely need a drink. There’s got to be something in this house harder than tea or Coke.

“Ha! There it is!” I said to myself as I reached into the cabinet above the refrigerator and grabbed a fifth of Jack Daniels.

I turned the cap and looked for a cup, but I couldn’t find one big enough.

“Screw it,” I said as I turned up the bottle.

I slowly walked into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and propped my feet up on the coffee table with my boots still on. There hadn’t been many nights I hadn’t had a drink since Caroline’s funeral. I refused to talk to anyone, ever. After every show, I would go back to the bus grab the closest bottle of liquor and lock myself in my room at the back. I drank myself to sleep almost every night too. I’m on the verge of being dependent on liquor and becoming a full blown alcoholic. But I never drink around the kids and thought I kept it a secret from most everyone. One night I even threatened to fire Kerri if she told momma and Bridget about my drinking. I only drank until I fell asleep. And when I drank, I always dreamed of Caroline. Those dreams were worth going to bed trashed almost every night and waking up hung-over almost every morning. 

The more I thought of Caroline, the more looking at the perfect living room she designed flat out pissed me off. I hadn’t had much to drink, but I should have known; Jack always makes me angry. I completely lost it. I slammed my feet down on the glass coffee table and it shattered. Chugging a large swig of Jack Daniels, I knocked the TV down off the wall. I took my pocket knife out and stabbed the couch, love seat, and ottoman ripping giant holes in every surface I could get ahold of. I threw the lamps down to the ground. That’s about the time I heard footsteps running down the stairs. I assumed I was just hearing things and continued the destruction I had started. I took a long drink of Jack, finishing off the bottle. As I looked at the empty bottle, I launched it through the air and watched as it shattered the window. That’s when I realized the footsteps weren’t imagined.

“Luke! What the hell are you doing?” Bridget questioned me as I continued with the destruction.

“What the fuck does it look like? I’m tired of all of this shit. I’m tired of looking at the perfect fucking life Caroline and I had that was far from fucking perfect,” I screamed at her.

Bridget had a moment of terror run across her face, then a sense of calm. She slowly started walking towards me, but didn’t speak a word. What was she doing? Why was she coming over to me? Why was she even here? It seemed like an eternity before she reached me. She took the pocket knife from my hand and sat it down on the floor. She took my hands as I looked up into her eyes trying to get the answers to my questions. They were overflowing with tears. I saw the hurt in her eyes. I felt my eyes fill up with tears as we slowly sat on the floor in the middle of what used to be a beautiful living room.